


Whenever You're Ready

by 10centpistol



Series: Bookstore Boyfriends [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom!Jean, First Time, Jean loses his virginity, M/M, Underage Drinking, top!Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10centpistol/pseuds/10centpistol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After a few weeks of inviting Marco over for movie night, the two boys become more acquainted with one another. A lot more acquainted.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few weeks of inviting Marco over for movie night, the two boys become more acquainted with one another. A lot more acquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to write this but then school started again, and I had class and homework and learning, which is fine except for when all you want to do is write about Jeanmarco. So I hope this was worth the wait. Enjoy! 
> 
> (Don’t worry, sexy times will ensue in the next chapter.)

_October 4_

_Friday_

After their meeting the previous Saturday, Jean and Marco saw each other twice before their morning shifts. On both days they grabbed coffee and walked together in the bright morning sun, making small talk about homework and the weather and how much Jean hated waking up early.  

On Monday Jean asked Marco if he had plans for the upcoming weekend, reminding him of the offer for a movie night. In hindsight, Jean felt silly for even broaching the subject. _Who already has weekend plans on a Monday?_ But Marco didn’t seem to mind, saying he’d make sure he was free and get back to Jean about it by Wednesday. 

Wednesday rolled around but Marco had yet to bring up the movie night. Jean considered pushing the subject but thought better of it, steering the conversation toward other matters. He inquired about Petra and how Marco had become so friendly with her, finding out they had taken statistics together their sophomore year and ended up seeing each other around campus a lot after that. Marco had continued talking about the class, but Jean couldn’t focus on what he was saying, too concerned about what was going unsaid. 

 _Maybe Marco doesn’t want to come over anymore,_ Jean worried, unable to look Marco directly in the eye. _Or maybe he’s busy. Or he just forgot_.

As much as he tried to push the issue from his mind during his shift, the unusually slow stream of customers gave him more than enough time to mull it over and get unnecessarily worked up. Even Bertholdt noticed something was cracking Jean’s usually indifferent behavior, and it wasn’t just a lack of sleep. But he knew better than to bring it up with his co-worker and went back to ringing up his line of customers. 

 _I think I’ll ask Marco about it again Friday morning, but in a casual way_. Jean imagined the conversation playing out in his head over and over, and it always ended ten times more awkwardly than he had intended. _Why does this have to be so fucking difficult? I’m just inviting my—_ he lingered on the next word— _friend over to watch a movie. In the dark._ His pulse quickened at the prospects of where those thoughts could lead. 

A loud cough from across the counter brought him back to reality. A significant line of impatient customers was now trailing from his register. For the first time in his life, Jean thanked whatever higher powers existed that the bookstore was busy. 

\-- -- --

The sky was noticeably darker Friday morning when Jean opened his blinds to check the day’s weather. If he didn’t have to be at work he would have seriously considered going back to bed. Unable to deny the only draw more powerful than sleep—money—Jean begrudgingly traded his sleep shirt faded from years of wear for a gray v-neck and blue jeans, faded so the store he bought them from could charge an extra $20. 

He saw Marco waiting at one of the tables outside the coffee shop and met up with him after getting his drink. They walked in relative silence, save for a brief discussion about the chance of rain later in the day. 

“So,” Marco began, catching Jean mid-sip. “What time should I come over tonight?" 

Jean brought the cup away from his lips, turning to look at Marco. Unsure how to respond for a moment, he faltered before picking the first number that popped into his head. 

“Uhhh… maybe nine? Is that cool with you?” 

Marco nodded quickly in agreement. 

“Cool,” he said, regaining his composure. “I’ve got popcorn and other shit we can eat. And I brought my sweet tv set-up from home so we won’t have to watch on a laptop.”

Marco hummed enthusiastically. “Did you have a movie in mind?”

Having reached the full extent of his plans, Jean let out a small laugh and shrugged. “I was actually hoping you would have some suggestions.” 

Eagerness flashed across Marco’s face at the offer to pick the movie. “Can we watch _Inglourious Basterds?”_

Jean had been meaning to see it since it came out but never was in the right mood. And now it was coming highly recommended from Marco, so how could he possibly say no?

"My parents bought me the collector's edition DVD and I haven't had a chance to open it yet," he explained. 

"Who watches DVDs anymore?" Jean asked teasingly. 

"I do..." Marco said in seriousness. "The quality's way better than anything online."  

Jean gave him that _you're such a dirty hipster_ look, as if he was actually talking about only writing his essays on a typewriter.  

"I'm a bit of a film nerd," said Marco, a blush rising on his cheeks. Jean felt bad about making fun of him, but not bad enough to stop him from doing it again. _He's downright adorable when he's flustered_ , he thought. _And fuck if that makes me even more of a girl than him._

They stepped inside the bookstore and parted ways with a promise to text each other later if anything came up. Jean's internal clock began ticking ominously. 

\-- -- -- 

Jean's last class of the day let out at 3:00, giving him plenty of time to go to the gym and swing by the grocery store a few blocks from his apartment before Marco came over. His house was embarrassingly low on food, especially anything worthy of a movie night. He filled a shopping basket with microwaveable popcorn (with extra butter because _fuck it_ ) and a bottle of Coke. Standing contemplatively in the candy aisle, Jean was slightly overwhelmed by the number of choices and his desire to consume them all. Eventually he settled on one box each of Sour Patch Kids and Junior Mints.  

He got home just after 5:30 and headed straight for the shower. A plush bathrobe covering his body, he plodded out to his living room and found he had two new messages, both from Marco. 

 

_From: Marco Bodt. 5:41 pm._

Hey Jean! I totally forgot to get your address! 

_From: Marco Bodt. 5:43 pm._

Also, do you want me to bring some booze over? 

_To: Marco Bodt. 6:03 pm._

Oh haha I live at the corner of 104th and rose in the green building.  

 

Jean quickly sent the text, but dwelled on his response to Marco's other question. He was conflicted about the alcohol. On the one hand, he was a college student being offered easy access to booze, which seemed like a no-brainer.On the other hand, he wasn't sure how he'd handle being drunk and horny at the same time, while in the presence of the person who'd been making him horny for the last week straight.  

He repeated _it's just a movie night_ three times in his head then took one last deep breath before composing another text.

 

_To: Marco Bodt. 6:06 pm._

And umm sure if u want. I bought some coke today. soda, not drugs.  whatever u have is fine. are u 21? 

_From: Marco Bodt. 6:06 pm._

Yeah I am 21. I'll see what I can find in my room. And I'll text you when I'm outside your building. See you in a few hours! 

 

Suddenly feeling very tired, Jean felt a nap was in order. He set an alarm for 8:30 before flopping on top of his bed and closing his eyes. 

After twenty frustrating minutes of switching sides, he decided it was a futile effort and unhappily went to his desk for a textbook. There was always reading to be done, and passing up two hours to do his assignments would have been foolish. Determined, he flicked on his desk lamp and cracked the book.  

Two pages later and none the wiser, Jean gave up on any hopes of productivity and just decided to go online.  

In the blink of an eye two hours passed. Without his alarm Jean would have stayed in bed all evening, but he needed to do a few things before Marco showed up. He pulled a few blankets from his closet and attempted to fluff the pillows on his couch before turning on the tv and flipping through channels mindlessly. 

A text from Marco at 8:43 saying he was there diverted Jean’s attention from the “adorable baby animals” special he was totally _not_ engrossed in. He slipped on his shoes and dashed out to the front gate where Marco was waiting patiently, an easy smile greeting Jean. 

“Sorry I’m early,” Marco said as they climbed the stairs and walked back indoors. “I told my roommate I was going out so he invited these two friends over and they came early. There’s definitely something weird going on between them so I figured I’d come over here.” 

“It’s fine with me,” Jean said, stepping into his tiny kitchen. “Should I pop some popcorn?” 

“Yeah, I’m starving,” said Marco, producing an unopened bottle of vodka from his backpack.  

“Dude, you didn’t have to go buy that.”  

“Oh, no,” Marco said, waving off Jean’s concern. “I actually bought it the first week we got back and still haven’t touched it.”  

Jean took the bottle and inspected the label, giving Marco an approving nod. It was the first time in his college career that he wasn’t holding the shittiest vodka known to man. 

“Let me give you some money for this. Shit’s expensive.” Jean’s mind was clearly elsewhere and they hadn’t even had a drink yet. He never willingly gave money to anyone. 

Marco made to refuse the offer but was interrupted by the ding of the microwave and the smell of freshly-popped and heavily buttered popcorn flooding the room. Jean pulled out two glasses (not red Solo cups—he had some self-respect) and the boys mixed up some drinks.  

Jean brought his glass to his lips and sipped experimentally, impressed that Marco nailed the vodka to soda ratio on the first try.  

Marco popped the movie into the tv while Jean dimmed the lights. The two boys settled into their respective sides of the small couch, Marco holding the popcorn bowl between them.  

The first scene began slowly, and Jean cursed himself for not taking that nap. His first drink was empty already and everything was feeling a bit fuzzy.  

 _It’s just the opening credits. I’ll close my eyes for like, two minutes and then I’ll be fine._  

\-- -- --

Jean woke in a haze, his mind unable to process his surroundings. The entire right side of his torso screamed in protest when he attempted to move, and his neck was stretched at an inhuman angle. He knew he was in his living room, on his couch, but could not for the life of him figure out what was pressing down on his shoulder.  

The gears in his head started turning immediately when he saw a hand out of the corner of his eye. A hand connected to an arm over his shoulder, connected to Marco. He forced himself to sit up and look at Marco, his rising blush thankfully hidden by the darkness of the room. 

Marco hadn’t noticed that Jean had stirred, his gaze completely focused on the screen. Jean shifted his attention to the three men in a forest, one he recognized as Brad Pitt holding a large knife and carving into another man’s forehead. The pooling blood did nothing to ease the pounding in his head that built with every passing second.  

“What’s going on?” Jean asked, his voice quiet and scratchy from disuse. He turned his head to yawn, making sure he wouldn’t breathe on Marco.  

“You only slept through most of the movie!” Marco said incredulously, betraying only a hint of tiredness.

Suddenly very worried that he’d disappointed Marco, Jean pulled away and sat firmly on his side of the couch. Marco let his arm fall to his side as the credits started rolling, the room getting even darker than before.  

“And you missed the cinema scene,” Marco said matter-of-factly.  

“Cinema scene?” Jean asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.  

“Wait,” Marco said seriously, sitting straight up. “You’ve never seen _Inglourious Basterds_?” Jean shook his head twice, not quite understanding what the big deal was.  

“And you slept through it?!” Marco raised both his hands to his face, his eyes wide in disbelief. 

Jean mumbled a half-hearted apology, too tired to care. He’d been worried that the night would get weird, but he hadn’t anticipated Marco being _that guy_ who gets personally offended over movies.  

“It’s totally fine,” Marco said, his voice back to its easygoing tone. _Phew, he’s not really an asshole—false alarm._ “I guess we’ll just have to watch it again,” he added, laughing as he got up to take the DVD out.  

Jean’s ears perked up immediately. _Do this again?_ That certainly got his attention.

“It’s almost midnight,” Maro said, checking the time on his phone, a hint of regret in his voice. “I should get going.” 

“Really?” Jean scoffed, now fully awake. “Midnight on Friday and you’re going home?” 

“I got a text from my roommate saying the coast is clear and I need to get back before he changes his mind,” Marco said apologetically.  

“Your roommate sounds like a piece of work.” 

“No, really. Bertholdt is cool, he just—” 

“Wait,” Jean said quickly before pausing on confusion. “Bertholdt? Tall guy, kind of quiet?” Marco nodded. “Oh god,” Jean said in horror. “I work with him. And you said he has a weird thing going on with his friends?”  

“I think he’s in a threesome,” Marco said under his breath. “But Jean, don’t say anything to him about it at work on Monday. He might tell his big burly lover-friend and I’ll get my ass kicked!” 

“Okay, I promise,” he conceded, laughing at the sincerity of Marco’s plea. Jean couldn’t imagine Bertholdt was really in a threesome. _Dude’s even more awkward around people than me_. _If I’m not getting any, there’s no way in hell he is._ But he decided he’d keep his mouth shut for Marco’s sake. 

_But if I ever need to blackmail someone to cover my shift…_

Marco extended an arm to help Jean stand up then grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter. Jean remained by the couch, stretching his sore muscles and avoiding the awkward goodbye he knew was coming. 

“Is it cool if I leave the alcohol here?” 

_Leave it here? So he wants to come over again? I guess I didn’t fuck up too badly._

“If that’s okay with you,” Marco added, trying to read Jean’s contemplative expression. “I had fun, even though you missed literally every good part,” he chided. 

“I had a good nap,” Jean said flatly, but Marco’s broadening smile defeated his sarcasm easily. “Want to try to get through a whole movie next week?”

“That would be great,” Marco said. “Maybe I’ll pick something a little shorter.”

They walked to the front door slowly, Marco just ahead of Jean. He slipped on his shoes and turned to face the other boy but said nothing. Not knowing what to say either, Jean awkwardly slid past Marco to get the door for him, fumbling with the chain lock. 

“Let’s discuss details next week on the way to work,” Marco suggested, stepping out onto the second floor walkway and relishing in the warm air of a southern California night.  

“Next week,” Jean said as a way of goodbye before he closed the door and secured the bolts. As much as he needed to process the night’s events, he really just wanted to get in bed. 

Cleaning up the glasses and picking up pieces of fallen popcorn, the one memory Jean couldn’t shake was the warmth of Marco’s body against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does everyone love Inglourious Basterds as much as I do? Anyway, stay tuned to see what happens next. (Spoiler alert: there will be hot boy-on-boy action.)
> 
> I’m on tumblr at crowley-kingoftrunks. And my beta is snk-sexual on tumblr / gonnaflynow here on AO3. She’s wicked cool. Send us weird asks and we’ll love you forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco share their first kiss, but Jean still can't get over his fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to include actual sex (don’t worry, it will happen—I promise). But I wanted to spend time on kissing, because kissing is nice. 
> 
> Sorry if you don’t like Star Wars. Hopefully your love of jeanmarco will overcome those misgivings.

_October 11_

_Friday_

Second dates were easier than the first in many cases, but for Jean, preparation for his next date (or movie night, or whatever he was calling it) brought out a whole new level of anxiety. No longer having to worry if Marco still wanted to hang out, Jean replaced his fear of rejection with his mounting fear of confronting his sexuality. He wasn’t clueless—he knew that you can’t invite your very attractive friend over to your empty apartment for two hours of close contact in the dark and not have anything happen. Add alcohol to the mix and all bets are off. 

So when Marco showed up outside his front door in a light blue button down that hugged his physique in all the right places, Jean knew he was fucked. 

“Can I come in?” Marco asked. Jean remembered that staring was impolite. 

“Oh, yeah sure,” he stammered. He went into the kitchen with purpose, avoiding the temptation of watching Marco bend down to untie his shoes. 

“Popcorn’s ready, and I got out the goods,” he said, gesturing toward the mostly-full bottle of vodka Marco had left behind. _I just need to get drunk and start the movie, and stop thinking about him._

Looking back on the evening, why Jean had ever thought that alcohol was the solution would be a question for the ages. 

Reaching into his bag, Marco produced another collector’s edition DVD set and set it on the counter in front of Jean. 

“I know I suggested Star Wars on Wednesday but I figured I’d let you pick the episode,” he said, voice playful. “Maybe you’ll try to stay awake for the movie you picked,” he teased. 

Jean rolled his eyes and grabbed the box set, marvelling at the packaging. He may not have been the most up-to-date on movies, but he’d certainly seen all three of these. Multiple times, obviously. _What self-respecting male child didn’t own at least one Star Wars action figure?_

He pulled out Episode Six and handed it to Marco decisively. _If all else fails, Leia in a bikini will save me_. 

He carried the large bowl of popcorn to the couch while Marco handled the drinks, mixing two for each of them so they wouldn’t have to leave their seats. They clinked their glasses together and sat back as the movie began, apprehension written across Jean’s face. 

All of Jean’s fretting ended up being for nothing; within twenty minutes both boys were laughing riotously at the alien costumes and special effects from the early 1980s. Neither even took notice of the bikini scene, too drunk to watch the movie and hold a conversation at the same time. Jean knew that Marco was talking to him, but what he mostly noticed was how cute Marco’s laugh was when he really got tickled by something, and how he covered his eyes with his palms which only drew more attention to the curve of his lips. 

Jean motioned to stand up and do a robot dance C-3PO style, but his arm swung and knocked the popcorn bowl from its perch between himself and Marco, scattering the food across the floor. 

“Fucking hell,” he swore, frustrated. He sobered up in an instant, bending down to pick up the kernels he could reach from his seat. 

Marco was still catching his breath from laughing but moved his legs apart so Jean could scoop up the popcorn around his feet, getting quieter as Jean worked to clean up the mess. Jean turned his head to give him an irritated glare but froze when he saw something else in Marco’s stare that wasn’t amusement.

The same energy from a minute ago was still present, but something was different. His eyes were darker, and his wide smile was now a tight-lipped pout. He’d set his drink on the end table and both of his hands were resting on his thighs, fingers spread wide. 

Without thinking, Jean’s eyes snapped from Marco’s face to his crotch and quickly back up. He tried to maintain an impassive glare despite the flood of fear in his mind, but Marco’s slight smirk told him he wasn’t fooling anyone. 

Jean drew a shaky breath and dropped the kernels he’d collected back into the bowl on the floor and sat up slowly, not taking his eyes off Marco. His tongue peeked out from between his lips but his back remained stiff, sitting completely upright. His heart was pounding and his body was on fire with adrenaline, but he didn’t flinch when Marco leaned in ever so slightly. 

“Jean,” Marco whispered, half a question and half an invitation, watching Jean from behind hooded eyes. His bottom lip was wet, head tilted just to the right. 

Biting his lip in confusion, Jean wrestled with one last moment of doubt holding him back in his mind. But this didn’t stop his body, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned in to meet Marco, their lips barely brushing. 

Marco kept the kiss light, waiting for Jean to catch up and decide if this was what he wanted. He pressed no further until he felt a hand slide experimentally into his short hair, fingertips hovering above his scalp. 

Permission granted, Marco moved quickly, one hand mirroring Jean’s and carding through his cropped hair. The other snaked around Jean’s waist, bringing them more firmly together. 

Jean sighed into the kiss, releasing a breath he’d been holding and allowing Marco to capture his lower lip between his teeth. The grip on Marco’s hair tightened, and Jean lifted his other hand to glide over Marco’s chest, remembering the figure he’d admired earlier hidden by the soft fabric.

Jean made no objections when Marco replaced teeth with tongue, running the full length of Jean’s lip and searching for an opening to explore more of the other boy’s mouth. Yet their position prevented Marco from kissing too deeply; feet still facing forward and torsos angled toward each other, the strain on their necks was building and threatening to break the kiss. 

Marco slid the hand in Jean’s hair down his neck, meeting the other hand already on Jean’s chest. He pushed gently backwards, laying Jean out on the couch without resistance, their lips parting for just enough time to take a ragged breath. 

Marco continued to dominate the kiss, Jean constantly playing catch-up. He could barely form a coherent thought, letting out a small whimper at the loss of control.

 _Damn, dude knows what he’s doing_. 

Jean could feel all of Marco’s weight on top of him, their entire bodies touching from lips to tangled legs. There was no pretending he was under a petite girl, the kind of person he’d imagined himself with. For most of his life, he’d fantasized about being in charge, of holding a smaller form against his own. This was different; not bad at all, just unexpected. 

Pants now uncomfortably tight, Jean groaned in frustration into the other boy’s mouth. Marco was warm against him, gently pressing his own hard cock against Jean’s leg. _At least I’m not the only horny one here_ , Jean mused, worried he was getting worked up too quickly. 

He held Marco’s head firmly in his hands, twining strands of soft hair around his fingers and tugging slightly, coaxing a moan out of the other boy.  

His heart, already beating rapidly, felt like it would burst from his chest as a hand trailed down his stomach and toyed with the waistband of his jeans. Marco rutted against his leg, ready and eager to go further. Jean couldn't deny his pleasure in seeing the other boy lose his composure; he wanted to feel Marco’s cock in his hands and know what made him squirm. He ached to be touched as well, but he wasn't prepared to have another man's hands on him. 

"M-Marco," he stammered, breaking the kiss just as Marco cupped Jean's cock through his pants. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the friction providing a moment of relief but clouding his thoughts. Reconsidering his apprehension, he fumbled to pull Marco back into the kiss, but he was already looking down at Jean, concern written across his face. Marco's hand rested innocently on Jean's erection.

"Is this okay?" Marco asked quietly, his lips swollen and wet. Jean eyed them hungrily, desperate to capture them in his own, to hold Marco against his own body and kiss him until they fell asleep. He was still terrified to confront his sexuality, but he knew he wanted that. 

Marco sensed his apprehension, quickly removing his hand and sitting back on his heels before Jean could say a word. He chewed his lip, fearing he'd pushed Jean too far in search of his own pleasure. 

"Sorry," Jean mumbled, his words escaping him. He could see Marco's cock straining against his khaki shorts. He enjoyed kissing Marco, and was even more aroused feeling just how much Marco enjoyed kissing him. _Why am I pussying out?_ He slammed a fist against the couch. 

“Jean,” Marco whispered, the sharpness of arousal dissipating from his features. “It’s okay.” He leaned down to give Jean a chaste kiss. “Everything’s okay.”

Jean covered his face in embarrassment, desperately wishing the couch would swallow him whole. Of all the disastrous ways he’d anticipated the evening ending, this was the one scenario that he failed to account for, and it was so much worse than he’d imagined. _I fucking annihilated the mood, and Marco probably thinks I’m just using him as some sort of experiment in gayness._

“Just… fuck,” he said as a blanket statement on the whole evening, sitting up and coming face to face with Marco. The other boy didn’t move to kiss him, or stand up, or do anything and Jean felt a rush of anger that Marco was so steady, all while he was constantly doubting himself. He turned his head so Marco couldn’t see his anguish.

“It’s okay to be confused, Jean,” Marco said reassuringly, placing a comforting hand on Jean’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry if I made it worse.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you,” Jean laughed under his breath, trying to cope with forced humor. “I fucking blue-balled you.” 

Marco looked down at his crotch, the outline of his half-hard dick still visible under the tan material. He was relieved to see Jean wasn’t faring much better. With no solution to the issue in sight, Marco tentatively put one foot on the floor to ease the weight Jean was bearing, careful to avoid stepping on the landmines of spilled popcorn. He stood and went to turn off the tv, distancing himself enough from Jean to diffuse any romance in the room.

Jean rose as well, his eyes drooping as he surveyed the chaos in his apartment. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Marco offered, getting Jean’s attention, “but I want you to know that I don’t think this was weird at all.” Jean laughed again, shaking his head. _Making out with my friend—who’s also a dude—definitely qualifies as weird for me_. 

“I’m, uh, going to head home now and give you some time,” Marco suggested, hunching his shoulders and putting his DVD away. 

“Dick,” said Jean curtly, putting Marco instantly on alert, a pained expression on his face. Jean’s smirk softened. “You aren’t even going to help with the mess?”

Marco opened his mouth to blurt out an apology and offer to stay, but Jean waved him off.

“Kidding,” he said, forcing a small smile. “Thanks for… being cool.” He never was much good at using his words to diffuse tension. 

Marco chuckled at his obvious social ineptitude. “I’ll see you Monday,” he asked, testing the waters, a hint of nervousness in his voice that maybe Jean wouldn’t want to see him anymore. 

“I’ll try not to oversleep,” Jean said in affirmation, walking Marco to the door and opening it for him.

They stood across from each other in the doorway, their wordless gaze broken when Jean turned his face, feeling the heat rise on his cheeks under Marco’s stare. He could sense Marco moving closer to him and parted his lips in anticipation without thinking, and was surprised when Marco simply pressed a soft kiss to his turned cheek. 

“Goodnight, Jean,” he whispered softly into the other boy’s ear. 

“Night,” was all Jean could get out before Marco gave him one last smile and turned toward the stairs, looking back once to see Jean wave goodbye meekly and close the door. 

He clicked the locks and leaned heavily against the door, letting out a breath he’d been holding since they left the couch. He was completely exhausted and it felt like his lungs were burning. The last thing he wanted to do was clean up greasy popcorn, but it had to be done. 

Dumping the trash in the kitchen, Jean went to the bathroom to wash up, moving through his nighttime routine on autopilot. Fortunately for him, even if he’d wanted to think about what happened earlier, he was too spent and a little too buzzed to recall much of anything. 

He collapsed in bed, the alcohol and adrenaline clashing and confusing his system, and drifted off before his thoughts could catch up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars Episode 5 is my favorite, in case you were wondering. My beta snk-sexual is lovely, as always.


End file.
